Blood & Bones: Whip (Blood Fury MC 11)

He needed to get on that.

It was much easier to find an available one now that the single brothers numbers were dwindling, even with the two prospects being patched over last December. After Liz left, five sweet butts remained, matching the same number of patched brothers available. Him, Easy, Dozer, Dutch and Woody.

And now Crystal was Stella and Trip’s house mouse to help take care of baby Rush and no longer considered a sweet butt.

Damn. Only five Fury members were left standing.

It would still be a few months before the three remaining prospects were patched over. If they even were. Castle and Bones would, Whip had no doubt.

Scar? That scary bastard was questionable.

“No?”

No, what? Ah, fuck. “Got an idea.” One that would work in his favor either way.

One perfectly shaped eyebrow rose. “Want to share?”

“I work on sleds.”

She stared at him.

“Bikes,” he clarified.

“I understood that part, but I’m waiting for the rest. You said you work on them. Like at a shop? Or in your backyard?”

“At a garage. I’m a bike mechanic. Well, I’m a mechanic in general but I’m good with bikes.”

“Just good?”

“Don’t wanna brag.”

She snorted softly. “I’m sure I’ll need someone great with bikes.”

“All right, then. I’m great.”

She smiled and if his dick could smile, it would be, too.

“Own it if you mean it.”

That was a good philosophy but he hadn’t wanted to sound cocky, but okay, then… “Best in the area.”

“Well, then my bad luck just turned,” she said.

Maybe Whip’s luck had turned, too. As long as she wasn’t from the government.

The way she spoke, her confidence, the way her hair was cut… She didn’t seem the typical biker chick. Especially with the cost of her sled and equipment. Even her helmet. She had the best. But put her in a suit, heels and some lipstick and she’d fit perfectly in a boardroom full of powerful people.

Not on some back mountain road by herself.

He reminded himself that feds also wore suits. And from what he’d seen, the women tended to have short hair.

Even though he wasn’t quite getting that vibe, he shouldn’t let his guard down. Not yet. The feds still could’ve set her up at the bottom of Hillbilly Hill, making it look like the damage had been done with rocks. A hammer and a metal hole punch could cause the same.

His thought process was that if she wasn’t, she’d have no problem with him getting her Scout hauled back to the shop. If she was, she’d fight it.

If she fought it, red flags would be whipping wildly in the wind.

“Well,” he started, once again glancing around to make sure he wasn’t overlooking anything. “Got a solution.”

“Yes, you said that already and I’m all ears.”

“I can haul you back to the garage on the Yamaha. Then we can come back with the flatbed to take,” he couldn’t make himself call the damn thing Agnes, “your Scout to the shop.”

“I don’t want to leave Agnes behind. I can wait with her while you get the flatbed.”

Shit.

He slipped his shades from where he’d tucked them, and slid them back onto his face. “Ain’t gonna leave you here.”

Both eyebrows rose. “I don’t think that’s your choice.”

She was probably one of those women who didn’t like a man telling her what to do. Too bad. Right now she had no choice unless she wanted to stay stranded alongside a back country road. Even if she called her own tow truck, they’d drop her and her sled off at Dutch’s. All the towing companies in the surrounding area did.

But now he was rethinking the whole vibe she was giving off. He couldn’t be too careful. “Look… Got a spot right over there where we can hide it ’til we get back with the rollback. It’ll be safe there.”

“Do you think it’s safer for me to get on the back of a bike with a stranger than to wait here?”

He glanced up the mountain again. “Yeah. This road’s kinda desolate. Never know who might come across you here by yourself.” Like a fuckin’ Shirley who could kidnap you, lock you in a damn shed and then strap you down to a damn breedin’ bench like they did with Red.

Fed or not, he kept that shit to himself.

“You don’t think I can protect myself?”

“That ain’t the point.” Federal agents could protect themselves. He wasn’t liking the way this conversation was going.

“Let me get this straight. I’m supposed to trust you but not others who might drive down this road?”

Well, fuck her and the possible badge she wore, then. “I’m offerin’ you help. Either you fuckin’ want it or you don’t. Ain’t here to argue about it.”

“I don’t know who you are—”

He cut her off since he was getting annoyed. And that took a lot for him. “Don’t know who you fuckin’ are, either.”

“It wouldn’t be smart to drive off with a stranger.”